


Be Enough

by fleetfoot1



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman and Robin (Comics), Batman and Robin Eternal (Comics), DCU
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Damian Wayne Needs a Hug, Damian Wayne is Robin, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson Whump, Dick Grayson is Batman, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt Damian Wayne, Hurt/Comfort, but they're just trying to work it all out, damian just wants to be good enough, they have their issues, theyre trying their best
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:43:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24397495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleetfoot1/pseuds/fleetfoot1
Summary: Damian knew he wanted to live up to the legacy he was given--he just had no idea hearing that he'd failed to do it would hurt so damn much.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne
Comments: 3
Kudos: 253





	Be Enough

Damian’s foot whirled out to the side, his heel connecting with the thug’s temple and making him drop like a rock. He ducked under another’s flying fist, jerking his head up to strike the man under his chin, throwing him off balance before slamming his fist into the side of the man’s head.

Damian’s body was aching, and though he would never admit it, his strikes had grown the slightest bit sloppy over the course of the fight. There were about 20 bodies dropped on the floor around him, but there were still another 10 men circling him, looking for an opening to with which to take him down. Damian vaguely noted the small puddle of blood that had pooled beneath his feet--actually, it probably had to do with the dull ache that was spreading across his lower back that made it a little hard to breathe each time his torso moved.

His comm crackled to life in his ear. “Robin,” Grayson’s voice came through as Damian ducked under another fist flying towards him. “I’ve located Crane, but he’s dispersed the toxin throughout the building. I’m going to start locating it.” Dick paused for a moment. “Unless you need backup.”

Damian rolled his eyes, despite having to fight to keep the breaths that were now coming out in gasps as even as possible. “I’m fine, Batman. I don’t need your assistance.”

There was a long gap before Grayson responded. “Are you--”

“Get the toxin out,” Damian snapped. “There are lives at risk and I don’t need your backup to take out a few thugs-for-hire.”

Damian could hear Dick’s tired sigh through the comms. “Alright. I’m on the roof of the building. I’ll work my way down towards you. Try not to die before I get there. Batman out.”

Damian took a deep breath, dropping low to sweep out the legs of the man in in front of him, trying his best to ignore the pain that took over his shoulder the second he was forced to put any weight on it. Inhale. Thug number seven hit the ground. Exhale. Only three left. He could do this. If only to avoid the humiliation that would undoubtedly prevail if he needed Grayson’s help.

Grayson had done enough for him. Training Damian and letting him work under him as Robin, even though Batman was his birthright, Damian grumbled to himself. But still. Grayson had taken him in and dismissed the incompetent fool that was the last Robin despite having no reason to do so, and Damian found himself working towards every expectation Grayson set. He preened at his praise, a reaction his mother would have killed him for, but Damian realized how much he enjoyed those encouragements; a hand squeezing his shoulder in approval or a grin and a nod when he finally mastered the move he had been working on for weeks--he had grown soft under Grayson’s guidance, yes, but Damian wasn’t entirely sure he disliked it.

Damian’s mind wandered enough about being torn between wanting more of the affection he had grown accustomed to with Grayson and screaming at himself for the weakness that he didn’t notice one of the men sneaking up behind him. He struck the temple of the one in front of him and watched him drop like a stone, but he barely held in the grimace when the last one came up behind him and struck him in the back, directly atop the bleeding wound he already had there. Damian whipped around and took the man down in two moves, but he stumbled as he did so. The world tilted dangerously, and a sort of black fuzziness overtook his vision as he struggled to right himself. Some subconscious part of him noted a faint hissing in one of the corners of the room, but Damian couldn’t do more than tap his comm before the world went black.

Dick was disarming the fourth gas canister when he heard Damian’s comm activate. According to Crane’s confession before Dick knocked him out and left him handcuffed to a flagpole on the roof, there were five canisters throughout the building that had to be taken out before the gas had the chance to overtake the vents. Dick’s hand crept up to his own comm, holding it down as he tried to understand the situation on Damian’s end. “Robin?”

Silence met him at the question. “Robin, are you in need of assistance?”

Something in Dick’s chest jumped at the lack of response, his jog as he approached Damian’s floor broke into a sprint.

Dick gaped at the scene that greeted him. Approximately 30 men scattered throughout the room, all of which covered in varying degrees of injuries but none of them, he noted with no small amount of relief and a little bit of pride, lethal. But his mood immediately faded as he noted the crimson-clad form slumped in the corner of the room.

“Robin?” he asked somewhat hesitantly, before noticing the slight green tinge that had taken over the air surrounding him. “Shit,” Dick murmured under his breath, noticing the vent a few feet from Damian that was releasing the dense smoke that was probably the last of the fear gas he had been unable to locate. Dick shoved a rebreather between his teeth and pried open the vent cover as fast as he could. As far as he could see, all of the thugs were still too far away to be affected, but Damian...Damian would probably be spending the night in the med bay of the cave.

As Dick worked, Damian’s quiet whimpers began to take over the heavy silence of the room. He didn’t seem to be moving much, likely due to the growing puddle of blood that Dick was trying to ignore for the moment, because if he thought about it too long he’d scoop Damian up and run him the cave as fast as he could, fear gas be damned. But Dick kept his composure, clipping the last wire on the canister to ensure no more of the gas would be released and tapped a few buttons on his gauntlet to redirect the building’s airflow outward.

Dick made his way over to Damian and gently pressed his fingers to his throat to check his vitals. He was still whimpering and his finger’s had began twitching as well, the only reason he likely wasn’t full out thrashing being that his body no longer had the energy for it.

Dick’s finger’s went to his ear. “Agent A, I need you to prep the medbay. Robin’s been gassed, and I can’t tell if it’s a new strain or one of the ones we have an antidote on hand for.”

“Understood,” Alfred’s voice came through. “Do I need to prepare any supplies for you?”

“No,” Dick replied, carrying Damian to the batmobile parked just outside the building. “I’m fine. I’m leaving with Robin now. ETA about 25 minutes.”

“Alright. I shall have everything ready for you when you arrive.” Alfred said.

Dick kept glancing over at Damian as they drove home, every twitch and mumble pulling his attention from the road. But Damian was remarkably...calm for someone on fear gas. It should have been reassuring, but something about it made Dick’s insides twist painfully.

Alfred was already jogging over before the car came to a full stop in the cave. Dick lifted Damian with an arm under his knees and the other behind his shoulders, careful to avoid jostling the long slice that ran laterally across his lower back. Alfred started an IV as Dick laid him down.

“I’m putting in the antitoxin for the latest strain we have on file,” Alfred said, slowly pressing down on the plunger inserted into the IV tube. “But he seems to be having some sort of delayed reaction to it, so I am not confident it will work.”

Dick pulled his cowl down, running a hand through his hair as Alfred began to dress the number of wounds covering Damian’s body. God, he looked so...small. So young. What the hell was Dick doing taking him out into the field and leaving him in a room with thirty men?

Alfred glanced back at him, seeming to take note of the anxiety in Dick’s stance. “Go take a shower, Master Dick. Master Damian is stable for now, and I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

Dick opened his mouth to object, but a look from Alfred had him turning on his heel and tossing the cape from his shoulders onto the chair in front of the batcomputer.

By the time he came out, Alfred was packing up the medical supplies and Damian was tucked firmly beneath the blankets kept in the medbay, looking borderline peaceful. Dick pulled up a chair and settled near Damian’s head.

“I’ll go upstairs to go prepare for tomorrow’s activities. You’ll be staying here, I assume?” Alfred asked.

Dick nodded, too tired to respond verbally. Alfred squeezed his shoulder gently as he passed by. “Let me know if you need anything,” he murmured. Dick nodded again, then leaned his head back against the chair, keeping his eyes on Damian. He made it almost an hour before falling asleep.

Damian shot up in his bed, his head sweeping frantically around the room to try and take in as many details as possible. Grayson was seated in front of him, and Damian tried to bring himself to his feet, but he found something pinning him down, like he was tied to the gurney. He didn’t like it--it made him feel caged. Boxed in. Too vulnerable.

Grayson stood and strode towards him, something about his gait making Damian far more nervous than it had any right to. Grayson’s stance and demeanor always reminded Damian of a cat--dangerous when it needed to be, yes, but light and gentle. But this...this Grayson reminded him of a wolf.

“What the hell were you thinking with that fight?” Grayson hissed, leaning forward in a way that had Damian unconsciously scrabbling backwards towards the edge of his bed.

“I--” Damian began, but Dick cut him off. “How the hell have you managed to stay alive this far? Why did Talia even bother dealing with you? You clearly didn’t inherit of her skills,” he scoffed, shaking his head and rolling his eyes towards the ceiling.

Some part of Damian flinched at that, but he rallied, even if the words came out in a whimper to his own ears. “My father was--”

“Your father,” Dick said, turning away from him with a humorless laugh. “Don’t even get me started on your father.” Dick turned back towards him, holding Damian’s gaze and spitting the words like venom. “Your father would be so disappointed in the way you turned out. You’re a pathetic excuse for Robin, and you’re not worthy of the cape you wear across your back. You are not worthy,” Dick repeated, “of _anything_.”

Damian began pulling at the invisible bonds tying him to the bed, every single word striking him like a knife to the chest. “You’re wrong,” he said, fighting to keep his words stable and yet still hearing a slight wobble to them as they spilled form his lips. “You’re wrong. You--You said--”

“I don’t give a damn what you think I said,” Grayson hissed, bringing his his face close to Damian’s in a lethal whisper. “I hate you.”

Damian wasn’t sure when the tears started spilling from his face. The words had struck something in him, something far deeper than what he had thought he was capable of feeling.

“You...” Damian’s voice came out small, even to his own ears. “You don’t mean that?” The phrase should have been definitive. Strong, Yet it came out as a question. God, Grayson was his partner. Damian should have known his true feelings like his own.

“I hate you,” Grayson repeated, his teeth grinding together in absolute loathing. “I hate you _so. Damn. Much_.”

Damian’s quiet tears of shock had changed into full out sobs. “Nonono wait, please,” he gasped in between whimpers. “I’ll--I’ll do better. I swear. Please, just, please don’t say that. Please don’t mean it.”

Grayson’s gaze remained fixed on him. His lip curled in distaste, and he only looked more disgusted with Damian’s pleading. “You’re a pathetic excuse for a Wayne or an Al Ghul. It was mistake taking you in. You’ll never be good enough to be my Robin, and you’ll never be worthy of anything your father left you.”

Damian’s vision blurred, no longer taking in anything around him. His world was fury and shame and exhaustion, but most of all, utter disappointment in the fact that he knew that everything from Grayson’s mouth was true. So he lost it completely. He sobbed and shook and screamed and begged Grayson to take him back. To let him prove himself as someone worthy of everything he had been given.

But Grayson’s face was like stone: utterly immoveable and ruthless. So Damian just went on pleading.

Dick jerked awake to the sound of the heart rate monitor spiking. Then he noted the alternated sobs and whimpers coming from the previously silent body asleep beside him. He pushed himself to his feet immediately checking over IV lines and oxygen masks before realizing, _shit, the fear gas must have kicked in_.

He touched Damian’s shoulder gently, trying his best to pull him out of whatever nightmare scenario that had him sobbing out in his sleep, trying to ignore then painful twist in his chest every time he heard some variation of “Grayson, _please_ , I’m sorry!”

It took almost an hour of shaking Damian’s shoulders and yelling his name before his eyes flew open. Dick glanced at the clock and did the quick calculation in his head. The toxin should be more or less out of Damian’s system by now, but the haunted look in his eyes seemed to say differently.

“Grayson,” Damian began, his voice hoarse and raw from the events of the night. His eyes were red and puffy, and tear tracks ran all over his face. “I--how long was I unconscious?”

Dick looked at him cautiously. “A few hours. Actually, I think the sun will be up soon.” Dick fell silent, watching Damian try and slow his breathing again before continuing. “Are you alright?”

Damian stiffened, and Dick started frantically running through everything he’d said and done since picking Damian up that might have elicited that reaction.

“I’m fine,” he replied, though the utter exhaustion in his tone seemed to convey otherwise.

Dick turned away for a moment (and could have sworn Damian almost deflated at the action) but returned almost immediately, holding out a water bottle.

Damian reached out to take it, and if Dick didn’t know any better, he could have sworn his hands were shaking he slightest bit. Dick settled himself on the bed near Damian’s legs, crossing his arms and watching silently as Damian sipped slowly at his water. As he twisted the lid back onto the bottle, Damian opened his mouth to speak again, his eyes never wavering from some invisible speck on the floor.

“Do...do you hate me?” Damian asked, his voice wavering the slightest bit and Dick could have sworn something in his chest cracked at the question.

“No, of course not, Damian,” he murmured, trying and failing to ignore the way every muscle in Damian’s body relaxed at the response.

“I know I’m not an easy person to take care of,” Damian began, still refusing to make eye contact with Dick. “And I know I don’t live up to the legacy that father left behind. And I know I’m probably not good enough for it, but--”

Dick cut him off by wrapping his arms around Damian’s shoulders and tugging him against him. Damian’s breaths began coming out in harsh gasps and he was crying again before he could really register what had happened.

Dick shut his eyes and began rubbing soothing circles around his back, letting Damian ride out the emotional effects of the fear gas for as long as he needed to. After a few minutes, Dick started talking again.

“Your father,” he said, “left me some really big shoes to fill. And honestly, I’d be lying to you if I said that you weren’t one of the most difficult parts of that.” Dick felt Damian tensing up against him at that again. “But,” he continued, “You’re one of the best parts of it too.”

“I was terrified to be Batman,” he admitted, his voice sounding more vulnerable than Damian had ever heard it in the weeks they’d worked together. “But somehow...somehow having you with me, to train and to work with, made it a little better. Damian, you gave me something real to work for, something I could look at and watch grow when every single thing Bruce did seemed too big for me to handle. And that is why,” he continued, his voice shaking the slightest bit, “you are an amazing Robin.”

“I’m not saying you’re perfect,” he added with a soft laugh, “but your dad would have been so proud of you. Like I am. So no, I don’t hate you.”

Damian was crying in his arms again, but these tears seemed different than the ones from before. Dick stroked his hair and held him close, even when his shoulder became damp from Damian’s tears, and didn’t move from there until Damian pulled away just enough to look him in the eye.

“Thank you, Grayson. For all of it.”

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by [this](https://whumpster-dumpster.tumblr.com/post/617812549666258944/i-hate-you-a-growls-b-tenses-offers-a-forced) prompt!
> 
> I take prompts on [tumblr](https://litrally.tumblr.com/)!


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